Caustic
by Pazlet
Summary: Deidara accepted his death. He embraced it. He was finally one with his ultimate art, the embodiment of something beautiful. So, he asked himself, why is he still alive? Deaf, blind, and his memories broken, Deidara is trying desperately to put the pieces back together. But all he can do is reach out to his only friend, his only hope, and pray that one day she will finally fix him.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: So, my first fan fiction in... how long? Three years? Phew, that was ages ago. Just bear in mind, I have been reading fan fiction whilst on my travels, but still! It's been ages! Also, for Christmas by lovely boyfriend got me a laptop, so I can now write my fan fiction and my blogs on the go! Super convenient.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story after my long, long, _long_ hiatus. Pray that I will not have writers block for another three years.**

* * *

The prison stirred, its inhabitants chattering among themselves in anticipation. The prison guards did nothing to quell the noise, it was the only time that the prisoners were allowed to do so. They let the chants crescendo into a heated roar, not because it was a special occasion, but because it was nigh on impossible to silence them.

Hands, arms and fists were protruding from between the prison bars, reaching out to grab – or punch – whatever and whoever walked past their cell. Be it guard, visitor or cleaner, no one was spared from their reach.

There was a dragging sound echoing down the halls of a lone prison ward, accompanied by the stomping of numerous heavy duty boots. The clanging of metal chains could also be heard, which rattled and dragged across the concrete floor.

"Fucking shut up!" An irate guard shouted in vain at the sea of arms. He didn't even know why he shouted in the first place, as the prisoners didn't action his request, or care for that matter. The guard huffed in irritation as he walked down the ward. The guard held the hilt of his sword tightly as he glanced over his shoulder.

"You okay back there?" He shouted behind him, watching his colleagues as they dragged someone haphazardly along. "Need any help?"

One of his colleagues looked up at him, his stature crooked as he awkwardly tried to walk straight under the weight of his hostage. "Nah, I'm fine," he replied, hoisting the prisoner's arm further up his shoulder. "Peachy."

The guard at the front laughed, facing back in the direction he was walking. The other two guards behind him looked at each other, smirking as they dragged their prisoner further down the ward. A stray hand from between the prison bars shot out to them, grabbing the metal chains that encumbered the unconscious prisoner.

"Hey!" one of them protested as they yanked the chain back, swatting the offending hand away. He looked back his prisoner, making sure that everything was okay before they carried on down the ward. Another hand shot out and snatched the cloth bag over the prisoners head, tearing it away in frenzy, blonde hair spilling into view and half obscuring his face. One guard tried to snatch it back, but the damage is done. The inmates saw the face of the new comer.

The sea of arm retracted behind the bars, and instead their heads were pressed against every available free space to steal a glance at the escorted man. Some laughed, some jeered, but the majority looked upon him with utter disgust.

"He must have been well known in the crime circle," the guard at the front commented gruffly. "Notoriety will be the death of him here."

They hurried down the ward, dragging the unconscious prisoner in haste towards a door.

On it was a sign, which read;

_Solitary Confinement._

* * *

_One week ago_

His first thought that came to mind – as abrupt as it was – was that he should have been dead. He should have died. Why was he alive? Was he dead in the first place? Many more questions flooded his mind.

_...wait._

One question did stick out from the haze in his head.

…_who am I?_

His blue eyes shot open, processing the view that's presented to him. Or, to be more precise, the _lack_ of view that's presented to him. He was also feeling incredibly light headed, however soon after it occurred to him that the whole time since he woke up he had forgotten the breathe.

He inhaled violently, immediately regretting it as he exhaled with a shuddering cough. His lungs burned, the air stinging his throat with every breath. After replenishing his body with much needed oxygen he tried to make the effort to sit up. His limbs felt so heavy, the ends of his fingers tingled and the palms of his hands felt... peculiar.

Something soft brushed his face, which startled him at first. Eventually he managed to command his arms to move, flicking whatever it was away. He blinked furiously, trying to clear the haze from his eyes. But, no matter how much he rubbed his eyes, no matter how much he blinked, he still couldn't see.

So far he managed to ascertain certain things that appeared in front of his face, like light and colour, but as it stands they were just indistinguishable blobs. As he moved his head to try and scan what was around him, the soft anomaly brushed against his face again. His vision darkened as this sheer curtain covered his eyes, and he grew angry at it constantly being in his way. After reaching up to touch this curtain, rubbing the soft strands between his fingers, he figured out that this curtain was actually the fringe of his own hair.

Long hair, eh? He never realised to be the type that grew his hair long, but he shook the thought from his mind as he decided to start prioritising his concerns.

His first concern, _who am I?_

For the life of him, he just couldn't answer that question. Where... where would he even start? It's just something that he cannot begin to comprehend. The one thing that he ought to know, his identity, escaped him.

Another concern, _why am I alive?_

For some inexplicable reason he knew that he wasn't supposed to be alive. He knew that he was supposed to be dead, buried six feet under and left to rot. How he knew, or _why, _is just another unanswered question to add to his list.

His third concern, and by far the most jarring, _why can't I see anything?_

Just by looking around, and by the heat reflected on his skin, he could discern that it was daylight. He even knew straight off that he bat that the sun was shining on him, a pleasant sensation that he welcomed. He could feel that he was lying on a bed of grass, soft and dewy, which overgrew freely over the loamy soil underneath. It smelled nice as well, the fresh air was tinged with the scent of wild flowers and occasionally a waft of something woody blew by. The mix of sensations and aroma suggested that he was in, or at least near, a summer forest.

One more question, _why is it so quiet?_

He took the question back, realising that 'quiet' just couldn't quite cut it. Quiet was an understatement, settling for the fact that it was actually _silent._ He knew that it wasn't silent in the real world, he could feel the breeze on him, he should have heard the breeze as it swept past and ruffled the grass around him... but there was nothing. No sound.

He was deaf.

That was one question answered so far. Ascertaining that there was supposed to be sound suggested that he hasn't always been deaf. Funnily enough, he knew what the grass underneath him looked like. He's seen grass before, so he wasn't always blind either. Another mystery solved. How he ended up deaf and blind in the first place... well, it seemed that every time he solved one thing, another mystery rears up.

_Forget it,_ he though to himself. _I need to do something._

Clumsily, he hoisted himself upright. His whole body protested in pain, his muscles burned and his joints had an agonising ache to them. Movement hurt, and the pain was so unexpected, it was difficult to keep control of his body. Momentarily he did lose control and lurched to his side, almost keeling over, but he recovered himself and managed to stand on his two feet.

_Now what?_

He didn't know. With some unknown resolve, he picked any direction and walked. Walking has hard, but at least he was doing something. There was no particular destination that he needed to be, not that he knew of anyway, but he needed to do something to distract himself. He needed to stop thinking. He needed to forget the million questions that whirred around in his mind. But then again, forgetting everything about himself was the main reason why he had these questions in the first place.

Something caught his foot and he stumbled over the object, falling face first into what felt like a large tree. He inadvertently scraped his skin on the rough tree trunk as he used the tree to balance himself, his hands and his arms stinging with some bothersome splinters. He rubbed his arms to assess the damage, feeling the skin to be slightly wet. It was weeping blood, he could tell by the feel of it, and he cursed loudly because of it. He cursed louder still as he discovered that he was also naked. _No wonder it was breezy._

His situation, as confusing as it already was, just seemed to get even more diabolical. He was going nowhere, physically and figuratively.

Time was passing, and he could feel the air growing cold. At first he thought that the sun had set, but occasionally he would come across a pocket of sunshine that peeked though the trees. It could only mean that he was moving deeper into the forest. He wished that he would find another clearing where the sun shone through the canopy, the lack of clothes made him cold.

He bumped into another tree, but this time he kept his balance. He punched the tree trunk anyway, venting his anger with what was supposed to be a growl. He didn't know what he sounded like, but by the feel of the resonance in his throat he must have been loud.

He paused. Something didn't feel right.

There was an odd sensation from the ground. He could feel small vibrations from his feet, of which felt like rhythmic thumping. The thumping... _footsteps._ They were getting closer.

Someone else heard his outburst too.

All of a sudden he was thrown off balance. There was a dull pain in his side where he had been kicked. Out of sheer panic he swiped pathetically at the direction he was hit from, but the offender must have dodged. Either that, or they had already moved.

Another blow came to him, this time to the back of his head. It dizzied him and he lost his balance, tumbling to the floor. He shouted in anguish as he clutched his head, frustrated that he couldn't see any of his offenders. There were numerous footsteps around him. He was surrounded.

Two hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him up. He tried to retaliate by kicking his attacker, but his legs just flailed blindly in the air. The blurred shapes and blobs did not do his vision any justice, but his vision darkened momentarily as someone loomed over him. Someone behind him twisted his arms into a locked position, nullifying his ability to punch.

He tried to shout for help, but his outcry was strangled as he was hit in the stomach. He doubled over in pain, but he then realised that doing so was a mistake as he gave his attacker easy access to the back of his head.

A hard blow came to his skull, and he was unconscious.

* * *

**Well, hoped you like it so far. Please note that the first chapter is always the shortest, the following updates are usually at least 3k words.**

**Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Did you kill him?"

A man, one of the local farmers, stood over the body of a naked youth. He looked at the body, poking it cautiously with his foot. "Nah, son." He replied to a boy behind him, who peered over his father anxiously. "Just knocked out, 'tis all."

The farmer's son, a mousy boy, gulped loudly. "M'kay," he squeaked. Without hesitation, the terrified lad turned around and ran towards his village, disturbed with what he had just witnessed. The farmer watched his son with weary eyes, shaking his head as he looked back at the naked man below him.

It wasn't very dignified for the youth, splayed out and unconscious in an ungraceful fashion. Good thing there weren't any women nearby, the lack of decency would have shocked them. Admittedly, the women might actually enjoy the view, the boy had a handsome face. His physique was strong, not too muscular, and he could tell that he was physically fit. But by looking at his hands, he looked like he didn't have a hard working profession. His hands looked too soft for things like that. Perhaps he had a normal job, but exercised regularly.

He also had long blond hair, a large portion of it covering half of his face. He was handsome and fit with long hair. The farmer grunted, coming to a conclusion about the youth.

_Definitely gay._

"Dad!"

The farmer turned around, watching his son return with one of the village elders. He was the mayor's right hand man, giving wise advice to their leader from the past experiences of his long, _long_, life. The farmer bowed in respect to the elder, which was received with gratitude from the old man. "Miko, sir." He addressed the elder. "This young lad was punchin' me crop."

Miko blanched at the farmer, and was even more baffled as he looked at the young man at his feet. He waved away the farmer's son, nodding his head towards the village. The boy obeyed and left without delay, glad that he was finally out of the fray.

"It seems that he is out cold," the old man commented as he tapped the man lightly with his staff. Miko scanned the surrounding area, unsure of what he was looking for. "Did you take his clothes?"

"Nah," the farmer said as he scratched his head. "Came wonderin' naked. Boy must'a been eatin' them forest shrooms. Gon' crazy, like. He was stumblin' through me field an' I saw him coming to me orange trees, thought he gots the munchies and is gonna steal me oranges."

Miko stroked his beard quizzically. "Then what happened?"

The farmer stared at the elder. "He punched the ruddy thing."

"...what?"

"Me tree."

"I see," Miko began, digesting his story. "So how did he end up unconscious?"

The farmer shrugged. "Well I punched the bloody twat, didn't I?"

Miko shook his head, massaging his temple with growing irritation. "I guess it can't be helped," he sighed. The old man shook off his cloak and laid it over the young man, giving him at least some of his dignity back. "Take him to the apothecary. I'm sure Yeun will revive him with some of her smelling salts. I would advise her to make some medicine for the boy to remove some of the toxins from his system. Can never really trust mushrooms these days."

"Yes, sir." The farmer rolled the boy tightly in Miko's cloak before dragging him towards the village, muttering crude curses as he went along. Miko watched him as the farmer hauled the young man away, his expletives getting worse the further he got.

* * *

Miko stroked his beard as he stared at the young man. The local apothecary clothed the wanderer before waking him, but not without difficulty. As soon as the stranger roused he thrashed in panic, pushing whoever touched him away. The chemist, Yeun, struggled immensely to calm him down. It was a strenuous task, which was made even harder as both Miko and Yeun tried their best with dodging the wild swings that came their way.

Eventually he calmed down, but the young man was still on edge. He sat bolt upright on his bed, his breathing quick as he stared absent-mindedly into space. The old chemist sighed in relief as she began to stir a black mixture in a boiling pot nearby. Miko wrinkled his nose as he watched the black liquid bubble in its pot.

"What is that?" the elder ask Yeun as she poured the concoction into a cup.

"Tea." She replied simply as she teetered over to her patient.

Miko grunted in disbelief. "That's not tea," he objected. "My wife makes the worst tea in the world every morning, yet it doesn't look as bad as..." he struggled to find a word for it. "As _that_."

Yeun made a strangled chuckle, not sure on how to take his words. "It's simply a mixture of green tea and charcoal," she explained. "If he has eaten those mushrooms, this tea will help draw out the toxins from his system. Hopefully it will alleviate the delirium he is experiencing."

Miko nodded in acknowledgement. He remained silent as he watched Yeun try to give the stranger the cup to drink. The young man grimaced as the cup neared his face, and instinctively jerked his head away when the cup was pressed to his lips. Yeun stroked his back in comfort, reassuring the man that it was safe to drink. He was reluctant at first, but after some gentle the coaching the young man eventually obliged.

"Any idea of where he came from?" Miko asked.

"No, I'm afraid not," she shrugged. "I was hoping you would know who this boy is."

Miko shook his head, unsure of what his next steps should be. "I will ask the nearby villages if they are missing this man. If not, then I might need to contact the nearest ninja village to see if they can track where he came from."

Yeun nodded in approval. "That seems a fair idea," she said as she further nursed the man. "I'm sure he has friends and family that would notice his absence. I'll ask the ninja village if he is on their missing persons list."

The young man coughed in disgust at the drink, pushing the cup away with distaste. He stuck out his tongue in protest before coughing again. Yeun saw that he drank it all, so she didn't object when she took the cup off him. She began to wash the cup in the nearby sink.

"Actually," she said with reflection. "There's a travelling ninja staying at the inn right now. She frequently stops there on her journey to Iwakagure. You can always ask her to send the message to her superiors there."

Miko gave her a kind smile as he patted her gently on the shoulder. "Yeun, you were always so sharp." He gathered his belongings from the table near the door, shrugging his cloak back over his shoulders. "I will return soon after speaking to our ninja guest."

He gave a small glance to the young man before leaving the apothecary.

* * *

Everyone at his village dressed the same as each other. Not only that, each citizen adopted their traits and mannerisms from each other. Everyone was similar in some shape or form. So, when Miko stepped into the inn's common room, he didn't find it surprising to spot the foreign ninja straight away from the crowd.

She dressed in practical clothes, simple and bland. The colours were dark and dirty, each piece a different shade of brown and green. Her skin was covered with sweat and grime, her brown hair piled into a lazy ponytail on top of her head. Miko could tell that appearances wasn't her main priority, but he also knew that she cared nothing of normal civilian life. Her lifestyle was something far beyond what he could comprehend. Everything about her kind, her experiences, showed on the surface of her skin.

She was littered with scars.

But despite whatever ordeal she had been through, she looked content. The ninja sat in the corner of the common room, casually reading her book with a calm expression on her face. A porcelain cup rested in her hand, its contents emptied from her literate reverie, and forgotten about as she read through an interesting prose in her current chapter.

Miko crossed the room towards her, stopping at the table she sat at, and took it upon himself to sit down opposite her. She turned a page in her book, not bothering to look at her new companion.

"It is considered rude to sit at someone else's table without asking." She commented dryly, her brown eyes scanning the contents of her book. Miko nodded in acknowledgement as he gave her a small chuckle.

"True," he sighed, his wizened face crinkling in a youthful smile. "But I have lived too long to live the life of a grumpy old man. I much prefer the lifestyle and blasé attitudes of the young."

The young ninja finally looked up at him, peering over her novel. Miko simply returned her gaze with a grin, stroking his beard as he waited for her response. She blinked slowly as she inhaled deeply, folding the corner of the page she was reading before setting it aside. She leaned forwards, resting her elbows on the table and placing her chin on the palms of her hands. The elder noticed some more scars on her arms – a collection of shallow nicks from years of training with sharp weapons.

"I always thought our elders were to set examples of good manners and respect," the young woman began, studying the elder opposite her. "If our roles were reversed, I'm sure I would be chastised for doing what you did."

Miko wheezed a laugh, amused at the woman's lack of humour. "That may be so," he recovered. "But if it offers you any consolation, I wouldn't chastise you if you did the same. If anything, I would welcome your companionship and make the effort to be friends. Besides, life is too short to make enemies upon first meetings with others."

The woman's lips curled into a humbled smile. She sat up straight, outstretching her hand to the elder, who held it gratefully and shook it. "Forgive me, sir." She apologised. "My name is Tsubasa. I regularly travel through here."

"Miko," he replied simply. "A beautiful name to suit a beautiful woman."

She shied slightly, but gained her composure quickly. "Thank you," she mumbled, taking the flattery, but not quite believing it. "How can I help you, Miko? Surely our meeting isn't without purpose."

He chuckled again at how the ninja didn't miss a beat. No nonsense, and straight to the point. "Tsubasa, you are a sharp young woman," he began. "But you are correct, I do require some assistance from someone of your talents."

Tsubasa sighed, studying the old man further. "If you are talking about the bandits that often loot your farms, I have already dealt with them today. They shouldn't be bothering your village any further."

He raised his whiskery eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, you have?" Miko returned to stroking his beard.

"Indeed," she nodded. "I met them on my travels. Caught them in the act per sé."

"And what _act _did you catch them in?"

She eyed her book, longing to read where she last left off. The young ninja was already growing tired of the conversation. She sighed, fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair. "They were stealing your piglets," Tsubasa replied, feeling stupid about the situation now that she looked back on it. "I... heard the squealing. I knew that your village had problems with bandits raiding your livestock, so I took it upon myself to deter them."

Tsubasa couldn't resist any longer. She returned to her novel and picked up where she left off. "Besides," she breathed, "it would be the least I could do. I frequent this inn on my way to and from Iwakagure, and I have grown fond of this place. It would be a shame if the village is tainted by bandits and the like."

A waitress walked by, and the elder caught her attention with a swift wave of his hand. He ordered them both a pot of tea to share before turning his attention back to Tsubasa. "Thank you," he said. "For the help you have given so far. But if it isn't too much to request, I have one more favour to ask of you."

She arched one of her eyebrows at him, tearing her eyes momentarily at her book to look at the old man opposite her. "Request?"

He nodded at her as he folded his arms. "We have come across a lost traveller," Miko explained. "It would be much appreciated if he is longer lost but found."

Tsubasa stared at him, a blank expression on her face. She blinked slowly once again, and chuckled to herself. "Sure," she sighed as she returned to her book. "Sure, I'll help you."

Miko smiled at the woman opposite him, and he watched her as she happily read her book. In normal circumstances he would find it quite rude how he was shut out like that – but Miko knew better. The tattered book in Tsubasa's hand was her solace, her mental sanctuary. After whatever ordeal she had been through, she knew she could escape her world by entering another through its pages. It's hard to imagine how the children in his village would often fantasise and act out the adventures of a ninja; yet here he is, sitting on the same table with a hardened assassin, whom would fantasise about living a life that is anything but _hers._

But no matter. Miko isn't one to pry into one's personal life. He's not one to judge either, neither approving or disapproving Tsubasa's actions. So, instead, he let her read her book. He took into account that she may take a while, but he was happy to wait. The waitress returned with a pot of tea, and cup after cup, he waited patiently as he let Tsubasa finish reading the chapter that she was interrupted from in the first place.

* * *

Yeun gave a smile at her guests as they came through the front door. Miko hobbled towards the nearest chair to him, while the ninja behind him stood in the middle of the room. Tsubasa folded her arms as she stared at the young man seated on the bed next to Yeun.

"Ah, hello!" Yeun exclaimed in greeting. "Would you both like some tea?"

Tsubasa nodded her head politely whilst Miko took up the opportunity with zeal to have more of his beloved beverage. Yeun took Miko's request and proceeded to her kitchen, leaving Miko and Tsubasa alone with the young man.

The ninja craned her neck as she tried to get a glimpse of the man on the bed. He just sat there, silent, as he faced away in thought. Miko noticed that the man was much calmer now, so he took it upon himself to converse with the man.

"You gave us quite a shock earlier on," the elder began. "Good thing there weren't any children around you during your... _display_."

Silence.

The village elder coughed at his reaction. _Perhaps he has no humour._

"What is your name?" The old man thought that he might as well not beat around the bush.

No reply. The man just sat there, still lost in thought.

It was strange, how he was just ignored. Yeun returned with their tea before disappearing back into the kitchen, and Miko sipped his in contemplation. Tsubasa just stood there, her eyes fixated on the young man, and said nothing at all. It was odd – not to mention awkward – and Miko just didn't know how to react towards such mannerisms.

Yeun came back from the kitchen with yet another cup of tea and sat next to the young man. She gently touched his arm to let him know that she was there, as if she didn't want to startle him. Tsubasa observed her actions, but still said nothing.

The man turned to face Yeun, but didn't look directly at her. The chemist gently took his hand and cupped his fingers around the tea cup, where the young man soon realised it was for him and took it gladly. He made a small and polite nod, once again directed to no one in particular.

Yeun rubbed his back in comfort as he took a tentative sip of his tea.

"He's blind," the chemist said simply. This explained a lot to Miko. "Blind and deaf. The only way to communicate with him is through tracing his palm."

As if on cue, the man reached out for Yeun's hand and traced some characters into her palm. _Thank you_ was all he said to her before returning to his drink.

"Did he manage to tell you who he is?" Miko said with revelation. "Did he perhaps say where he came from?"

The chemist shook her head, folding her arms as she watched the man sip from his cup. "No," she sighed. "He said he doesn't remember anything. His name, his home, his family... nothing."

"I do."

Tsubasa stepped forward. Miko noticed that she never took her eyes from the man. Never stopped glaring. She had a very stern expression, something very different from her calm exterior that Miko witnessed at the inn not too long ago. It was frightening.

Yeun, however, was oblivious to her actions, and simply smiled back at her naively. "Oh, you do?" she piped. "Well that's a relief-"

"His name is Takoumi Kyou." Tsubasa cut her off, the words she spat full of vitriol.

Miko and Yeun looked at each other, uncomfortable at the sudden change of atmosphere. The young man was oblivious, and carried on sipping his tea happily while Tsubasa carried on glaring daggers at him.

"Do you know him?" The elder questioned, feeling brave.

She shook her head. "No," she said. "Not before he became our village traitor." Tsubasa walked towards the man, and knelt down in front of him. "He changed his name after bombing my home village."

The elder was incredibly worried, but he wasn't unnerved to pry. "Who is he known as now?"

The ninja stood up and finally took her eyes off the man, and gazed over to the elder. She took out a kunai from her pouch before replying simply;

"Deidara."

* * *

**Ah, second chapter. Done on the train on my journeys all over Kent. Super tired. Super hungry.**

**Anyway, the farmer is based on a true story told by one of my clients. No word of a lie, some teenager got high from eating wild mushrooms as a dare from his mates and _stripped naked_. He then proceeded to stagger to my clients orchard – still high off his nut mind you – and started fighting with one of his apple trees.**

**Intrigued by his story I asked him "What did you do?"**

**And his reply was "Well, I punched the bloody twat, didn't I?"**

**I wish I could have witnessed that. It would have been bloody marvellous.**


End file.
